


I'm Here

by DevinTowerwood



Category: Life Is Strange, Love is Strange - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Inspired by Steven Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7900111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevinTowerwood/pseuds/DevinTowerwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After yet another fight, Chloe comes up with an idea to help her and Rachel put their issues out in the clear. Inspired by the recent episode of <i>Steven Universe<i></i></i>, "Mindful Education"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Here

 

Weed might be good for anxiety, but it was shit at controlling fury. The constant grating required nicotine. 

When Chloe pulled into the Two Whales parking lot and turned off her car, she took a second to roll down the windows before getting out of the car. She didn’t want to go inside with this sort of mood. Instead, she fished into her pockets for a cigarette and her lighter. As the tip burned with ember light, she got the first rush of relief into her lungs, into her veins. She grabbed the lever under her seat and slid her seat back as far as it could go, letting her stretch out a little more as she made her way through the smoke.

They had another fight. It’s not like that was surprising, but somehow they always caught Chloe off guard. More often than not, she’d end up in her truck in some parking lot, day or night, smoking her way through a pack.  
She only had two cigarettes left. Hopefully she got over this fast, then.

It was a stupid fight. She had known that before she even arrived here. But there was no way to patch things up with Rachel when she was like this. They had realized early on no amount of consoling stopped Chloe when she boiled over. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to be consoled. She wanted to lose control.

That was really what it was, when it came down to it. It only became more obvious to her with every inhale of the calming smoke: she wanted to boil over. She didn’t understand how Rachel could keep it all under wraps, how she became quieter and quieter the less control she had.

By the time Chloe flicked the butt of her cigarette out the window, she had settled on that. This was just who they were, wasn’t it?

As Chloe slipped the next cigarette in between her teeth, the thought was solid.  
 _Neither of us will ever change._

The lighter sat in her hand, but Chloe closed her eyes, sagging against her seat without lighting the smoke.   
It was in moments like this, the hollowness after a fight like the antithetical afterglow of lovemaking, that Chloe let her doubt hit its depths. Rachel and her - it was the thing she believed in, more than anything. But in these moments, she doubted that, too. Not her love, no, but her right. Did she have the right to love Rachel? Did she have the right to be loved back, despite all the shit she pulled? Could they ever belong together for all the right reasons?

Chloe’s cigarette twitched in her mouth, just barely. Chloe let her eyes open, and she found them overwhelmed: perched on the edge of her cigarette, so close that it blurred, sat a blue butterfly. Its wings fluttered as if it were steadying itself on the tiny pale plank extended from Chloe’s lip.

Chloe blinked, barely breathing from fear of scaring the delicate creature away. She slowly raised her fingers up to her mouth, slotting her fingers between her lips and the butterfly, who miraculous didn’t fly away. Chloe drew the cigarette from her mouth and gently, gently held the cigarette aloft somewhere between her and the dashboard.

The butterfly fluttered its wings for a few more seconds, then took flight again, seeming to wobble back and forth in Chloe’s truck before departing through the window.

Chloe took a deep breath, then fed her cigarette back into the pack all by its lonesome. She shoved her lighter in with it, dropped the pack on the seat next to her, then turned the key of her truck.

* * *

 

> **Chloe:** may i kidnap you?
> 
> **Rachel:** what do you want to do??
> 
> **Chloe:** hold your hand  
>  **Chloe:** and talk  
>  **Chloe:** and stuff
> 
> **Rachel:** okay  
>  **Rachel:** pick me up in a few minutes?
> 
> **Chloe:** im already here

About three minutes later, at 9:07 according to Chloe’s clock, Rachel emerged from her house in a sweater far too heavy for the early fall. No matter how many seasons passed, she had never grown used to the nights in Arcadia Bay. The way she shamelessly wore Christmas sweaters regardless of the month never failed to make Chloe smile, and this was no exception. The soft glance from Chloe brought a warm smile to Rachel’s face as she opened up the passenger side.

“Hey,” Rachel greeted.

And Chloe replied, “Hey you.”

“Where are you taking me, captor?”

Chloe couldn’t hide her amusement as she turned the truck back on. “Somewhere I think you’ll like.”

Rachel quirked an eyebrow. “An adventure, is it? Lead on.”

* * *

 

“Ah. The beach. What a risk,” Rachel commented, totally deadpan.

Chloe pretended not to hear her, turning off the truck and stepping outside. Luckily, Rachel’s complaints weren’t so great that she didn’t follow suit, and they weren’t so great that she didn’t take Chloe’s hand. Despite being so small, Rachel was always like a little space heater, and even the warmth of her hand radiated against the bay’s breeze.

Rachel shot Chloe a glance once they were pretty far out on the sand and Chloe broke her hold, stuffing her hand into her pocket. However, as Chloe suddenly pivoted and fell backwards onto the sand, hitting the ground with an impressively solid _thud_ for the sand, she broke out laughing.

“C’mon, join me,” Chloe said.  
Rachel’s lips pursed as she tried to hold back more laughing, her eyes scrunching up cutely all the while, but she dropped to her knees, then sat down, then finally lay opposite of Chloe, though their heads were still situated pretty close.

Chloe was impressed at her dedication - at least she’d had the foresight to stuff most of her hair into her beanie, but Rachel was just letting her hair get fucked over by the sand. It always felt like a treat when Rachel was willing to get messy. Which was always. But still, it felt nice every time.

“So, why did you bring me out here?”

Chloe did her best to shrug, despite her position. “I know you love the stars.”

“Awww,” Rachel crooned, but she could hear the edge of sarcasm. Then her voice turned high and light - just new forms for the same sarcasm: “Too bad it’s cloudy as shit.”

“I never claimed I thought this through.”

That made Rachel giggle. God, why did she waste so much time getting mad when being funny got _this_ instead?   
“Classic you, huh?”

“Huh,” Chloe grunted. “Yeah.”

Chloe left her hand up and open at a bit of an awkward angle, high enough that Rachel would be able to see it in her peripherals. After a few seconds, Rachel reached across her own body, just managing to fit their fingers together.  
Rachel said, “But for real, though. Why did you bring me out here?”

Chloe took a deep breath, and exhaled as if trying to clear her lungs of smoke. She hadn’t exactly gotten her thoughts into much clearer words since they came to her, but it was time to try.  
“I wanted to apologize for earlier . . . but not just apologize. I always apologize, but I want to try something new. I want to change.”

Rachel didn’t reply or move, not at first. But then, she drew her hand back and rolled, pushing herself up so that her face was suspended upside down over Chloe’s, a curtain of her (now somewhat sandy) hair cutting out most of Chloe’s vision.  
She swallowed, then said, “Okay.” A short pause, and then, “Apologize, and then let’s talk.”

Chloe took another deep breath, faster this time. “All right.  
“I let my fight with Mom and David turn into a fight with you. I lashed out when you tried to soothe me because I can’t lash out at them. That doesn’t excuse the way I treated you. I shut down what you had to say because I wanted to be angry. I shut down your feelings so I could feel mine, and that was wrong. I am sorry. And I want to offer something, and I hope it will help.”

As much as Chloe fought against going, it was in moments like this, where she could see Rachel’s face soften to her words, that she was glad she was back in therapy. It had been so hard to stop directing all of her blame and rage inward, and it was still there in her thoughts. But apologies like these - like the ones she’d learned - she could see that they soothed Rachel for real. Chloe hating herself only hurt Rachel. That never helped anything.

And Rachel had learned her part, too. She leaned down, and planted a kiss on Chloe’s forehead, long and warm. “I hear you, and I accept your apology.”

Chloe let a smile on her face, relaxing a little without the rigidity there.

“I mean, dude, for real, I’m so sick of being a drag on you. So I wanna offer like, a game to help us out.”

“A game? Like what?” Rachel cocked her head to the side, intrigued.

“Instead of blowing up, I’m going to try and just say what’s pissing me off. But then, I’m going to say something good - something keeping me grounded, or something that brings me back. Then you say what’s pissing you off, or bugging you, and something that brings you back. Okay?”

“Okay,” Rachel replied, sinking back down into the sand to look back at where the stars ought to be. “You first.”

One more breath, and she was ready.  
“So, what’s really been pissing me off is, no matter what I do, Mom comes in expecting me to fail. She doesn’t think I can hold down a job because I didn’t keep going to college. She didn’t think I’d be able to handle college because I dropped out of Blackwell. She doesn’t believe in me. And I don’t know how to believe in me like that.”

“And what brings you back?” Rachel asked.

“What brings me back . . . is thinking about the day we pack up and go. The day we finally leave, when it’s all fresh and new and my mistakes don’t matter anymore. When I get to try again.”

“Hmm,” Rachel hummed. Chloe couldn’t tell if it was in thought or in acknowledgement.  
“What bugs me is . . . how all the guys in the Vortex Club think I’m just a fucking idiot. I’ve been there for two years, but they still try to mansplain everything: even music! Constantly music! Like they know shit!”

Chloe grinned, and asked, “And what brings you back down?”

Rachel gave a bit of a groan, but then she said, “I mean, it’s nice when I can just crush them with knowledge, but that doesn’t always work.”  
She took another moment to think.  
“I guess . . . well, in the same vein, coming home and listening to my dad’s records. Being pissed has never helped me get ahead. Caring has. So I find something to care about.”

Rachel descended back into silence, but Chloe didn’t need a prompt this time around.  
“I get so . . . angry with myself. Whenever I start something new, I never know what I’m doing. And I can never seem to do that thing you do where I sit down and absorb it - I just get mad. And then I get worse, and madder. I get so pissed that I don’t just get it. That nothing comes to me like it did when I was a kid. I get angry that I don’t know how to learn.”

Chloe had a solution quickly in hand, though, “But I think about what I can make for us. I think about the apartment we could have if I can keep a job. I think about the better apartment we could have if I go to class. I think about how you’ll look at me if I can play a song on the guitar.” Chloe let out a bit of a nervous laugh at that one. “I think about what we could have, someday.”

The sound of them breathing in and out, of the ocean rushing in and out was all there was for a moment.  
Rachel said, “Careful there, Chlo. You’re starting to sound pretty in love with me.”

Chloe snickered, “No, really? What else pisses you off, huh?”

“Hmm... Victoria Chase.”

“Oh yeah? Why?”

There was a short pause, then, “Well, she’s just such a bitch. From the moment we met, it’s been like she’s trying to squash me. I’ve tried to be nice, or just to ignore the stuff she says, but she just goes for it. She goes for my clothes, my photography, my dreams, my friends. She treats our relationship like scorched earth warfare is the only way, and it’s just fucking hurtful.”

Rachel had talked about Victoria’s bullying bullshit before. She’d always . . . laughed about it, though. Chloe figured it never really touched her. That it couldn’t.  
Apparently, she was wrong.

“And how do you come back down?”

A long sigh from Rachel, followed by more silence. Chloe thought she was just thinking, but it started to draw on uncomfortably long. That worried her.  
“Do you . . . have something?” she asked.

“I . . . nothing pretty,” Rachel admitted. “I mean, when it gets to be too much, I find parties. I drink, I do whatever until I’m too burned out to care.”

Chloe took another breath, reaching in her mind to find more of the shit her shrink had been telling her. “I mean, you don’t have to make it poetic or pretty. Just honest.”

“Well, okay. It’s your turn.”

Chloe had to admit - now that they were in this, she wasn’t feeling all that anxious or angry. She was more concerned that Rachel was bothered by something that she hadn’t known about. If Rachel is what brought her back to earth, well, her feet were on the ground now.

“Well, um, I’m pissed about my AC being broken, but waffles bring me down. Your go.”

“Chloe, you’re supposed to take this seriously.” Rachel sounded annoyed.

“And look? I totally am. But, like, I want to hear more about this from you. Please?”

Rachel chuckled weakly. “All right, all right. Hm. I get pissed that I’m 5′4″.”

That was a new one. “What? Why? You’re tiny. My arms are tiny and I can piggyback you for forever. It’s adorable.”

Rachel snorted, but after a second, “No, no, I mean. I’m _too_ short. For like, the sort of modeling I want to do, you know? I was tall as a kid, I always figured: hey, how hard could it be to get to 5-7, 5-8. But the last growth spurt never came. And, well, I’ll always be too short to ride the runway.”

Again, Rachel didn’t have a nice way to come down, and just trailed off until it was quiet again. Chloe had seen _ANTM_ , there was no reason why she shouldn’t have considered the height thing. Was it really that serious in the modeling world to be above a certain height? Was this something Rachel had known for years and just not brought up, no matter how often then talked about their escapes to LA?

Chloe sat up and scooted back until she could see Rachel’s face clearly. The corner of her mouth was turned down, and her eyes staring blankly up at the sky. It was always impossible for Chloe to tell if Rachel were concentrating on something thanks to her nystagmus, but the fact that she didn’t look at Rachel as she came into view only worried her further.

Chloe reached out and took Rachel’s hand. “Does all this stuff really bother you? The dudebros and the bitches and maybe some douches up in LA?”

Rachel frowned more deeply, and it looked like she was grinding her teeth. Her brow was sharply down turned, as if burying something inside through force of will.  
Her voice was weaker than Chloe expected: “How could it not?”

“I . . . I guess I just thought you were immune to that sort of stuff. You’re always so kickass and confident and like . . . well, pretty perfect. I didn’t think it could touch you.”

Rachel’s hand sat pretty limp in Chloe’s, even when she squeezed, hoping for the acknowledging squeeze in return.   
Finally, although delayed, that it came, warm and tight, and Rachel looked to Chloe.

“I want to be, Chlo. I want to be like that. And I _try_ but I’m not. And everyone thinks I’m just some fucking loser or, like, perfect, and nobody will see that I’m trying.” Her eyes were beginning to tear up, but she reached up with her thumb to wipe away the moisture. “Fuck,” she said in reply.

“I didn’t know,” Chloe said, uncertainty creeping into her voice.  
But that wasn’t a defense.

Chloe tugged on Rachel’s hand until Rachel sat up, and Chloe wrapped her arms over her shoulders, bringing Rachel down to her shoulder.

Rachel kept talking, “Fuck, I know it’s my fault. I know I hide it. I want people to think like that. Loved or hated, I don’t want to just be a person.”

Chloe squeezed her whole body now. “But you are, Rachel. You’re a person who never stops trying. You know what we call those people?”

“A loser?” Rachel asked, laugh-crying for a second.

Chloe shook her head, her chin rubbing against Rachel’s scalp. “Nah . . . a good one. A good egg.”

Rachel pulled back a little, leveling an incredulous glance at Chloe through her smeared eye liner. “Literally no one says that. Not one person.”

Chloe took a deep breath, steeling herself to confront something instead of “deflecting with humor” or whatever. She needed to address to this.  
“I’m sorry. For everyone, and for me too. I didn’t realize this all got to you. I haven’t been there for you.”

Rachel shook her head. “I haven’t let you. I want you to think I’m perfect, too.”

Chloe dragged her legs around her body until she could prop herself up on them, loosening her hold on Rachel until they were connected only through intertwined hands.  
“What brings me down is being in love with you, and having our future together. I want that. I want to fight for that. But we’ve both got to be people for that, right? I need you here with me.”

Rachel leaned forward slowly, and Chloe mirrored her until their foreheads touched, and Chloe could just feel the tickle of Rachel’s breath on her neck.

“Okay,” Rachel said, and squeezed Chloe’s hands. “I’m here.”

“We’re here. Together.”

And Chloe broke the hold of their hands, offering up her pinky in the tiny space between them. “I promise,” she said.

Without hesitation, Rachel lifted her hand, intertwining their pinkies. “Promise.”

And, with that, Chloe slumped down, collapsing back into the sand. Thankfully, this worked twice, and Rachel giggled. This time, though, Rachel lay next to Chloe, snuggling in close so that Chloe’s arm could wrap around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Rachel whispered. “For coming back to kidnap me.”

Chloe kissed her forehead, rubbing her hand up and down the sleeve of Rachel’s too-big, too-thick sweater. “Always.”


End file.
